


The unending swell of the sea

by silveronthetree



Category: Seaward - Susan Cooper
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveronthetree/pseuds/silveronthetree
Summary: Cally starts a new journey seaward.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ser_dontos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ser_dontos/gifts).



> I decided to explore one possible path Cally might've taken just before she and West were reunited. I hope you enjoy it. I am afraid I'm not a marine biologist, so apologies for any errors on that front. Many thanks to [redacted] for their speedy beta. The title is from the last line of the book.

Cally looks down through the plane window at the wide expanse of rolling sea beneath her and spots the island in the distance. Something had drawn her here, away from her comfortable routine full of lab work, teaching students, and weekends full of books, laundry, the occasional dinner date and yet more work. She doesn't remember the last time she'd been to the coast. Years in the city made her forget the call of the sea that drew her to study marine biology in the first place.

There was nothing different about the day she'd picked up a flyer from the department lobby to mark a page in her book. She'd started reading the flyer in a distracted moment over breakfast the next day. The advert for a summer job on a faraway marine research station was intriguing, but she'd thrown the piece of paper out with the remains of her breakfast -- a dream too far from reality. But her thoughts had returned to it again and again throughout the day. That evening, to her flatmate Jen's utter disgust, Cally had retrieved the yolk-stained paper from the rubbish bin, and retreated with it to her room. She'd dreamed of the sea that night.

The first thing in the morning, she'd phoned the number and within a few short weeks she'd found herself on a plane with the prospect of new summer job.

*

She is met at the airport by the Professor in charge of the research station, a flustered middle-aged man with a tight, curly mass of hair, who greets her rapidly as he hefts her already battered new suitcase from the uneven floor of the airport. His name is familiar from undergraduate textbooks, and Cally is consequently rather tongue-tied as he shows her to his battered car.

She's exhausted from the three flights and the island passes in a daze, with glimpses of green hills, enormous spiders in webs on the trees and exposed cream rocks. She can smell the sea across the whole island, a familiar salty tang that draws her attention and she can't help but smile.

They pass two wiry men sawing away at huge blocks of limestone and Cally blinks away the gritty dust filtering through the open car windows and sight of the mounds of stone dust spilling on to the road pulls her out of her daze and she shivers.

"Here we are," the Professor says, drawing up to a squat white house. "We're all staying here. You'll meet--" he adds several unfamiliar names very fast and she misses them, "--later."

Inside the house is cluttered, filled with stacks of well-read paperbacks, journal reprints, and equipment. The usual detritus of field work. Cally's eyes are drawn to a battered pack left near the entrance and she wonders who it belong to. She thinks she'll like it here.

"I'll show you your room," the Professor says.

There is a strong scent of mothballs as he opens the door to the room that will be hers and it almost masks the salt in the air. He leaves her at the door with her bags. "You should rest. We'll see you for dinner at eight."

Cally retreats inside, overwhelmed and shattered, and flops down on the bed. She's asleep before she knows it.

*

There is far too much food at dinner and far too few people for the enormous table. Just the Professor, Cally and a small Asian girl with a strong Australian accent. The Professor explains that the rest of the team is on a night dive and they'll be back late. She most likely won't see them until the next afternoon.

As Cally helps set up the table, she looks at the notes stuck to the doors of the fridge. One is signed with a dynamic W and she wonders what the rest of her new colleagues will be like.

The Australian girl is one of the Professor's graduate students and she tells Cally about their work. "Everyone gets into it because of the marine mammals but plankton is where the excitement is."

Cally laughs and agrees, "I always loved seals." She runs her fingers over her palms, surprised even now at the smooth, soft skin.

She's even read Cally's one research paper. Cally starts to relax in the rough-hewn chairs, bites of fish curry and fresh fruit going unnoticed as they talk. This is familiar territory.

Later, the Professor explains a bit more about her role. She knows she's there because she's done a lot of teaching and she's specialised in identifying a wide range of marine organisms from this area. All the long-term staff have multiple roles, and Cally will be taking over the sessions training people from the island about the local marine life and conservation.

It's been dark for hours, although it is the height of summer and the room is filled with the yellow glow of lamplight. The Professor talks about the rest of the team, and there’s warmth in his voice as he describes them. Particular pride and affection appears as he explains the hard work done by one particular protégé--Cally still hasn't caught his name--who'd fled his own country as a teenager and talked his way into working his way through his marine biology schooling by crewing research boats like theirs. It makes her degrees and summer volunteering sound like the easiest things in the world. Whoever this young man is, he's dedicated to the work.

*

The research station is smaller than Cally imagined, airy and full of the early morning sunshine. She's wide awake despite the jet lag and is itching to see more and meet everyone. They are throwing her in at the deep end with a class of school children later in the morning. Luckily she won't be doing it alone. Cally familiarises herself with her surroundings, starting with the photographs of her new colleagues tacked on the walls. Most show the backs of heads or faces obscured by diving masks and Cally worries about putting faces to names. The girl with cropped blonde hair, surrounded by grinning children in every picture must've been the one who used to do her job.

She hears the roar of a motorcycle arriving as she’s absorbed in the charts and diagrams she's been given. There's flash of dark hair from the corner of her eye, but when she turns, the person is gone.

The children, when they arrive, are reassuringly familiar. Much younger than she's used to but the dynamics are similar. She's absorbed in helping them identify the different shells in front of them and work out how the animals might've lived. The details are new but this is what she's trained for. There is always something new to discover about the sea and she loves to share that journey with people.

Cally laughs at one small boy's excitement as he pretends to be a pecten clam shell, flapping his arms and pretending to swim backwards. There is something wonderful in the air and she's in a constant state of anticipation.

*

"Ready to go out in the boat with us? We won't be diving today," the Professor asks early in the afternoon when the children have left. "We're just taking samples. It'll give you more of a feel for everything.

This fills Cally with thrumming excitement. This is the first step to where she wants to be. She finishes tidying away the papers and specimens, amazed at the amount of sand tracked in.

She scrambles for her gear and follows the Australian girl out to the boat. It's bigger than she expected and there are several new people there, but no one introduces her and she waits awkwardly to one side as the others load equipment in a practiced fashion. She'd only get in the way. She's counted five people and then she catches a glimpse around the corner of a pair of strong brown hands checking over the equipment as it's loaded.

She stares out to sea, watching the pattern of the cerulean waves beyond the reef. She'd chosen not to stay in their embrace in a colder, darker sea long ago but now she's itching to dive in the clear blue sea. It's a far cry from the freezing coastal waters that she knew best.

Someone calls her name and she surfaces from her memories to see a calloused brown hand held out in front of her. She stares blankly for a moment; it's a long way back from Lugan's country even in her thoughts. She looks up and it's as if she's still there. Before her is a familiar smiling face.

"Hallo Cally," Westerly says.

"West?" Cally asks, but she isn't really surprised. This is what that tug deep in her gut was leading to. She reaches out and takes his hand.

"I always knew I'd find you by the sea, Selkie girl," Westerly says, his hands warm and real around hers.

Cally steps onto the boat and into her future.


End file.
